


Death of the Lion

by nihlus



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 16:18:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8379049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nihlus/pseuds/nihlus
Summary: When she saves the world, the Death of the Lion is set into motion. Set after the final battle with Corypheus.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Un-betaed, and written in a short period of time. The muse hit me, so this came along. Concrit is always welcome.

_There’s nothing to worry about - I have luck on my side, remember?_

 

 _Whatever happens, you_ **_will_ ** _come back._

 

_I certainly hope so._

 

_The thought of losing you…_

_I_ **_can’t_** _._

 

* * *

 

Sitting outside Evelyn’s room, Cullen watches as the hall starts to fill with guests. Hundreds are just about as many as the hall can fill, with many trailing to the greenery outside. He can’t help but give a smile, wondering what Evelyn would have to say if she saw this long line of people, venerating her, all of them grateful for her, for all of her sacrifices to save Thedas.

“Kinda makes you a little sick.” Varric nudges Cullen’s elbow, joining his side, Bianca strapped across his back. There were bags under his eyes, his hollow look aging him beyond his years. Cullen’s hand rests on Varric’s shoulder, quietly sharing his pain. He knew what Varric meant - on the one hand, it was reassuring to know that there were people who would support their cause when push came to shove. _But why does it always have to come to that? Why do we have to lose people, in order to realise how much they were doing for us?_

“How’s everyone else?” Cullen’s voice is soft, releasing Varric’s shoulder before his fingers curl around the marble banister. Varric shrugs, sighing.

“Bad. They’re not doing too great. Some at the tavern, some on their own, and I’m here with you.” Varric doesn’t meet Cullen’s eye directly, instead looking at the people file out bit by bit the moment they give their thanks. It’s almost methodical, the way they bow their heads, the nobles giving a soft word of appreciation before the Sister nods and bows, signalling their leave. Even from a distance, the two of them on the floor above the goings-on, they can see Leliana’s expression. It’s tired, worn-out, and a side of the woman they rarely saw. She spots them above, and gives them a nod, which they both return. Her eyes linger on Cullen for just a moment longer, before darting back down to give a nod to the new pair of nobility.

He knows that Varric saw the lingering look, but he wasn’t going to acknowledge it. He can even feel the dwarf’s eyes on him for a moment, before turning back to face the front. Thankfully, he wasn’t saying anything just yet: he knew better than to say anything about what he saw, knew better than to offer the empty promises that it was going to be alright, that things would be _fine_. Resting a hand on Cullen’s bicep, Varric gives the last of his reassurances, which Cullen returns with the smallest of smiles. It seems to satisfy Varric, who leaves quietly, the soft thud of the door indicating his leaving.

Elbows resting on the banister, Cullen simply looks ahead, the casket they’d chosen for Evelyn sitting where her throne once sat. He’d seen her earlier, when they first lay her in the casket. A whitewood casket, elegant in its carvings, with few decorations of silverite. Her body within, laid on a bed of midnight blue velvet, her own dress matching the velvet. He’d wept when he first saw her: she looked at peace. Her hair was different too: softer, the way that she wore it whenever she was with him.

 

* * *

 

 _He watches from the bed, just_ **_watching_ ** _as Evelyn gets herself ready for the night. They’d taken to spending their nights together, just taking the time to be with each other. Out there, outside his quarters, she’s the Inquisitor, strangely easy to talk to yet immensely difficult to get to know. In here though, she sheds it all, and becomes Evelyn Trevelyan, and Cullen can only remind himself how lucky he is that she’s given him the chance to know her - every bit of her._

_Even as she sheds the jacket she wore around Skyhold, Cullen finds himself amazed at how strong she is, and how far she’s come. Her back is scarred, and in the light of the moon, her skin takes on an almost blue hue, but her scars almost glow in the night. “Like silverite,” he hears himself say, prompting Evelyn to turn towards him, brow raised, before breaking into the widest smile. Her hand tugs the cord around her ponytail free, her hair falling free around her shoulders, fingers tucking the largest lock behind her ear. It’s almost magical, how that simple gesture affects him, causes an affectionate warmth to bloom in his chest._

_“You’re smiling too widely,” Evelyn chuckles, leaving her cord on the nearby chest. “And what’s that I heard about silverite? Happen to remember one I should inform our troops about?” Bare-bodied, she crawls to loom over him, her mahogany locks coming loose from her ear again. “C’mon,_ **_share_** _, you’ve always been nice about sharing, why hold back now?” Reaching a hand upwards, Cullen returns the smile, the backs of his fingers grazing her cheekbone lightly, the one with the tiniest of scars, from when he’d thrown his box of lyrium apparatus at her. The guilt he’d felt when the box had struck her was overwhelming, and it had been something she had to remind him, time and again, to forgive himself for. Now, as she leans into his touch, a wide smile on her face, Cullen finds himself more in love with her than he can remember. The occasional crackles of the fire, the soft breaths that they fill the room with before the eventual moan and gasp, and they lay next to each other, hair mussed, both of them smiling even as Evelyn leans in for another kiss._

_“You’re beautiful,” he smiles, mimicking her action earlier as he tucks the stray lock behind her ear. Worn out, her cheeks pink from sex, Evelyn giggles softly, saying nothing. His arm reaches around, pulling her closer towards him her eyes still looking for his. When they meet, his expression softens, her eyebrow raised at the change in atmosphere._

_“I need you to promise me something.” Cullen starts, licking his lips nervously. He isn’t sure why he started with that, or why he’s even asking her_ **_here_** _. He had a_ _plan_ _and **everything**. _

_“I promise.”_

_“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.” He looks at her, bemused, as she laughs, cuddling him._

_“That’s alright. I trust you. I trust that what you’re making me promise isn’t_ **_bad_** _, and that it’s something I might even deign to consider.” Tilting her head up to look at him, wide-eyed, Evelyn grins. “So what is it? A new noble to check in on? Errands to run? Who are you sending me off to, to my impending, and oh-so-mortal peril?”_

_“...”_

_“Cullen?”_

_“Marry me?”_

 

* * *

 

“Cullen?” A soft voice punctures his reminiscing, turning to see Leliana at the door, Josephine by her side. “It’s time.” He turns to look at the halls, the guests now gone. Save for the Inner Circle, the hall was abandoned, the servants and Sisters giving the members the privacy they needed. Seeing Cullen turn his head to look at them, they return the gaze, and in that moment he can see each member’s grief.

Following his fellow advisors down, Cullen starts to think what it is that he wants to say. Whether or not there was a _need_ for him to say anything. He could say ‘I’d be hard pressed to find someone like you’, or, ‘I miss you terribly, my dear’, or ‘I need you here’, but part of him wonders if it would have really made a difference. If the others really needed to know just how much he needed her.

Eyes transfixed on her casket, he closes his eyes momentarily, remembering the calls for him as they found Evelyn.

 

* * *

 

He rushes from his position at Skyhold, Vivienne and Cassandra by his side. Parting the crowd, he can see Bull’s hulking figure, crouched over her. Cole, who was with her, stands aside, his eyes flicking away from Cullen’s when he sees the Commander. Even with that...somehow, he almost _knows._ Bull turns, hearing the whispers of ‘Commander’ follow one after the other, his arm barring Cullen for just a moment, giving the man a pointed look.

“I’m sorry.” His words fall from his lips before his arm falls, letting Cullen through, his eyes following where Dorian was kneeling next to Evelyn, attempting potion after potion. Arm mangled, body broken, with so much blood. _Too_ much blood.

“ ** _Evelyn?!_ ** ” Cullen feels weak at the knees for just a moment, his voice finding its way from his chest first as his feet come sprinting forward, kneeling by Dorian’s side. He can feel her blood soak his trousers, even as Dorian helps to arrange her in Cullen’s arms. Her blood clings to the furs along his shoulders, her sharp cry heard as he whispers his apologies. “No- no, no, _please_ , Eve,” his own voice cracks as the others melt away from view, unable to tear his eyes away from his beloved Evelyn, “Eve, darling, we-”

“I’m sorry.” She reaches her unmauled hand upwards towards him, back of her fingers grazing his cheek, leaving a smear of blood. Even then, she’s smiling, but he can feel her slipping away as she holds him. Holding her closer towards him, the softest of breaths by his ear, her head leaning against him for support. His chest feels unbelievably small, the words he wants to say, the words that he’s told her before desperately fumbling over themselves as Cullen tries to remember them all, tries to get them all out for her before she goes. He whispers the love he has ever expressed to her, ranging from the simple to the awkward, and it’s all Evelyn has in her to smile at each of them, to laugh, even as her wounds start to run dry. He can feel her hanging on, just barely, her fingers lighter in their touch around his fingers.

“I’m sorry. And after I’d said yes, too.” She gives a pained smile, her breaths heaving as she tries to hold on. “Come closer, Cullen.”

He bends his head down, listening to her final words. His eyes widen, staring, before brimming with tears as her hand finally falls away from his cheek, the dull thud of her hand upon the blood-soaked ground almost resounding. In that moment, Cullen holds her close to him once more, his body struggling to hold it all in, his mind barely recognizing, barely processing her words --

\-- before it finally _clicked_.

His eyes wide at his realization, a wolf howled, almost echoing his loneliness. A broken sound, one that barely captured the Lion’s own pain. As he roared that night, his pain, his single wound, the scar that would never heal revealed itself, his tears shed as he begged for her to come back. He’d lost the only woman he’d ever loved so furiously, the only woman who gave him the understanding and love he thought himself unworthy of receiving. Heart in shreds, he roars out at anyone who tries to get close. As the soldiers leave, the crowd thins, leaving only the members of her Inner Circle, each of them without words.

 

* * *

 

His eyes snap forwards as echoes of ‘to Evelyn’ fill the room, Varric’s gaze meeting his. Ah. Right. The speeches were all done, with him as the last one to go. He hadn’t heard a single word of what the others had said, and now it was his turn to repeat their sentiments, to go through both happy and heartbreaking memories of her. “You want to say anything before...?”

Even as he thinks about it, he remains seated where he is, hands clasped together so tightly the leather paled, his nails felt beneath the worn material. Varric moves to stand next to him, hand resting on his shoulder. Thankfully, the room is quiet, not a single person saying a single thing. He can feel the hot prick behind his eyes again, a single tear inching down his face as he hangs his head. Coming to his feet, he turns to address all of them, eyes meeting the gaze of each member as he talks, his tears now free-flowing.

“She saved us all, some of us in more ways than one. Our own inner demons, she took the time to learn, to help. Demons that never understood, or demons that we never got the chance to kill. Gave us the- the _chance_ to confront them, and help, and just _saved_ us, sometimes when we didn’t even think there was a hold on us.” He swallows the choked feeling in his throat, steadies himself, and looks up again, barely catching Sera wiping her face with the back of her hand. “She loved us. We loved, _love_ , her."

"Some of us made promises to her, and _she_ made some promises to us.” His gaze falls back onto her casket, remembering his night of silent prayer, praying for all of this to be a bad dream, a complete and utter nightmare, that he would wake up and be with her and be with his family and be with her and _be with her_ and _**be with her**_. 

"Some of them will just have to remain unfulfilled."

 

* * *

 

_“I would have called him Leon. For his father’s bravery, having faced so much of the world alone.”_

**_"I'm sorry."_ **

_"I love you both."_

**Author's Note:**

> And as it turns out, my version of Trevelyan is unexpectedly cruel to Cullen. 
> 
> My only defense is that in the time that she was dying, it's not likely that she weighed through 'hm, would this scar my fiance for life, or no?', I mean, she reaaaally didn't have long. Not in my imagination, at least.


End file.
